Lifting my head was beyond my abilities. Moving my feet an inch took immense effort. In addition, I wasn't in our second floor bedroom, but an examining room on the ground floor of Miriam's clinic, covered by a starched sheet.
I was scared as hell, imagining I'd had a stroke or something equally ghastly, despite just having turned twenty- three. I recalled all too clearly what sudden illness was like from my childhood. I tried speech, and managed what sounded like a faint gargling noise. Miriam, my live-in lover, loomed into my line of sight, wearing a tender, bright smile, and green scrubs. A surgical mask hung around her graceful throat.
"Relax, my love." She bent and kissed my slack lips.
"You're fine. There's nothing wrong. I took the liberty of giving you a shot a little while ago." Since she was my physician as well as my mate, the injection itself wasn't amiss, but the effects were.
She read my befuddlement, stroked my forehead.
"Remember our talk last weekend? Well, I decided to take you at your word."
There wasn't anything wrong with my mental faculties. I knew exactly what she was talking about. The subject of sexual fantasies had come up. I remembered the embarrassed, halting confession I'd never shared with anyone, ever. I especially remembered her passionate response and the half-crazed lovemaking which ensued. Once again we'd demonstrated how marvelously we meshed. Even our fantasies complemented one another.
"Murrgh?" Which was supposed to mean, "Take me at my word?"
I'd laughing accused Miriam of being a mind reader more than once during the year we'd known one another. She again proved her capacity for insight by nodding. "And, since part of your fantasy was being helpless to resist, I knocked you out and rolled you down here. Starting to make sense now?"
Too much so. "Nrgh." I.e., "No!"
Her grin was filled with mischief. "Sorry, love. Too late."
She showed me another syringe, moved it toward my arm.
"Nightie-night. See you real soon. I love you."
I didn't even feel the prick of the needle. An uncomfortable reddish-black darkness rose up to enfold me.
I didn't feel well. My stomach was unsettled. I was light headed and had a pounding headache. My mouth tasted like it'd been swabbed out with alcohol. Worse yet, my head, arms and legs were restrained. It took a few thunderous heart beats to recall where I was and what I was doing there. My shout was hoarse, but at least it worked properly.
I heard a door open and close, was relieved when Miriam appeared. "Turn me loose." It was as much plea as command.
"Not yet, hon. We're through with stage one. It's going even better than I imagined it would. We've got to let you come out from under the anesthesia before you move. Thirsty?" A glass equipped with a straw appeared. "Just a few little sips."
"Stage one?" I wondered, suddenly aware of how tired I was.
"Yeah. Now get some rest. I'll take you back upstairs.
I was still totally immobilized, but it was reassuring to be back in her bed. Our bed, that is. I'd moved in four months before, after letting her talk me into quitting my job. My freelance writing - something I'd been pining to do for years - was starting to generate some income and decrease the debt to Miriam I compulsively kept track of.
I felt vastly better. Enough so to be aware of how odd my body felt. I was afraid to guess what that meant. Hurriedly, before I had time to think, I called her name.
"Right here, darling." Her soft, purring voice came from an invisible spot to my right. Hell, everything but a swath of ceiling was invisible. "I've been watching you sleep. I can't believe it."
I recognized that tone of voice. She was aroused. I had a real good idea what that meant. The damage was done. I felt a peculiar hollowness within me, anticipation mingled with anxiety. My body tried to grow an erection. There was an odd resistance down there. I wet my lips. They tasted like Miriam. My voice was much more quiet than usual. "I'm okay?"
"Oh, honey, much more than okay."
"Can I see now?"
She approached me. The look in her eyes - unmitigated desire - eased my anxiety, amplified my arousal. "You've got to promise to keep your eyes closed."
She waited until I agreed. The thirty-odd seconds it took for her to release my restraints were the longest in my life. I was still woozy and weak as she helped me to my feet. My eyes reflexively opened to aid my wounded sense of balance, but her hand was covering them. Smart lady, Miriam.
She positioned me. I was becoming aware of specifics, but when she dropped her hand, my blind, confused self- exploration died.
"Oh my God!" I whimpered.
Two women stood side by side. The brunette in the blue robe was Miriam. The other woman, a striking raven haired seductress, wore a lacy black teddy and seamed hose. Her large firm breasts lunged as she gasped a shocked breath. Her ruby lips and long-lashed eyes were wide with trauma. Her long red nails rose toward her lovely chest. The woman was me!
Miriam was saying something. I struggled to listen. " . . . took the liberty of dressing you and making you up. I couldn't wait to see you whole. Do you like it? Is it what you expected?"
My knees became rubber. My head spun. "What have you done to me?"
"Nothing that can't be undone," she said hurriedly. Her voice faded and echoed toward the end.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed. The first things I saw were the black stockings clinging to my legs.
"You fainted," she said worriedly.
"How girlish," I groaned.
"A joke!" she said with a smile of relief. "You must feel better."
"I'm not sure what I feel," I admitted, trying to organize scattered thoughts. "Uh, you were saying something about . . . uh . . . this not being permanent?"
"God, love! You don't think I'd maim you!"
"No - but you've got to admit that I . . . that this looks pretty damned real."
"Of course it does! It *is* real, as far as it goes. Breast implants and a couple of careful injections around your nipples. A little liposuction to slim your waist - and a tad of the tissue reinserted strategically around your hips. You're exactly my size now, by the way. Except for your feet, of course. Other than the depilated body hair and plucked brows, I could have you back to your normal self in a day."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I raised a delicate crimson winged hand to hesitantly touch a lock of long black hair. "How about this. It's not a wig."
"Nope. I wove add-on hair into yours after I colored it."
I swallowed mightily, let my gaze drop to my biggest worry. I could feel my male organ, but was nonetheless mightily reassured by the sight of a nearly invisible flesh colored panty girdle clasping my center in a tight grip.
"I can't believe you really did this to me. It was just a fantasy."
Her smile was wolfish. She untied her robe, let it fall open, and slithered into bed with me. "Funny, but you don't sound mad."
"I'm still in shock."
"I know the perfect medicine for that. Lay down and kiss me, you sexy bitch."
She rolled atop me. Her breasts pushing against mine was the most wonderous thing I'd ever felt. And we kissed with even more passion than usual. When she broke the grinding embrace, I'd smeared her with lipstick.
She tasted it with a languid tongue, whispered, "I've always wanted to make love with another woman." Her hand rubbed my girdle. "Especially one equipped with one of these."
What an evening! Miriam was a madwoman. She freed me of my girdle, made me admire my astonishingly slim waist and full hips before inhaling my swollen penis in a single dive. I ecstatically made love to her fragrant pussy with my mouth until we both achieved stupendous orgasms. I got no rest, though.
"I've got to fuck those tits," she gasped, pivoting, freeing my - *my* - brand new 35C breasts from their flimsy confinement. My enlarged nipples were proud and tall, and I watched, enraptured, as she positioned the left one between her thoroughly lubricated lower lips and fed the tip of my breast inside her. The sight and sensation were indescribable. I toyed with her sensitive back door and clit, careful of my overly long, sharp fingertips. She howled like a banshee and resumed her orgasm, riding my tit until she was wracked by an especially powerful throe and lurched off me.
She collapsed, ending up with her head on my flat stomach. Noting my reborn erection, she gently stroked and kissed it while I ran soothing fingers through her short brown hair. Our breath had barely returned to normal before her nursing on my member became more insistent.
"Cum in my cunt, baby," she whined urgently. "Fuck me with that pretty clit."
That was fine with me. I was still too weak to help much. She kept me supine, a position we both loved anyway because it allowed maximum penetration. What was different was the way I felt. Miriam massaged my tits. That, and my hands returning the favor, were inescapable reminders of the dire difference from the norm. It was easy to forget whose cock it was that was fucking whom.
The old, dark fantasy had become reality. I willingly lost myself in it. My orgasm bloomed like a glorious flower and swallowed me. I heard my cry of release begin. It continued, pulse by throb, until I lost consciousness.
I awoke early. The sun was barely above the horizon, and the bedroom was nearly dark. I was nude, the teddy and hose she'd dressed me in a tangled ball beside the bed. Miriam's hand gently cupped my bare breast. I stared at the vision, waiting to awake from the bizarre hallucination. A growing need to urinate persuaded me that it was no wet dream. I carefully disentangled myself from her naked body and slowly rose to my feet. My breasts bobbed deliciously. My piss hard cock almost evoked a nervous laugh. It didn't belong with the rest of my body.
I noted subtle changes that I'd been too stunned and drugged to absorb the day before. My center of balance was higher, and the rhythmic sway of my breasts altered it further still.
The tug of the weights on my chest was impossible to ignore. My long, tangled midnight hued hair tickled my shoulders and face.
And the mirror! Jesus! I thought I was ready as I flipped the bathroom light on and carefully raised my eyes. Instantly, I forgot what had been the urgent need to urinate. Nothing could have prepared me for that first clear, undrugged look at what I'd become.
My breasts were masterpieces, despite small aureolae. They loomed, large, soft, proud, and undeniable, compelling a complete reconstruction of my self identity. Even if I strapped them flat under my normal male clothing, I'd always be conscious of their existence. The sweeping concavity beneath them, and the graceful out swell of my hips were equally alien and remarkable. My jeans and slacks wouldn't fit properly any more.
My rampant penis recalled me to urgent business. Standing seemed, well, pretentious. I felt myself blush as I sat and hid my organ between my legs. For the first time, I noted what Miriam had done to my pubic hair. It was trimmed into a tidy black triangle. Trust her to be thorough with the hair tint. My legs were sleek and hairless. As, I discovered with a hollow thrill, was my entire body below my eyelashes. Never hirsute, it was still a heady rush to have smooth underarms. I laughed softly - a suitably androgynous sound - when I saw she'd painted my toenails as well as fingertips. I wondered briefly, though; she herself rarely wore makeup at all, much less such bright nail enamel, yet she'd painted and dressed me like a temptress as I slept.
My business finished, I once again stood before the mirror. With a guilty glance toward the closed bedroom door, I tucked my penis between my sleek thighs. With that bit of evidence hidden, the illusion was complete. A pretty, though somewhat square featured, well shaped woman posed in the glass. Her hair was tangled from a night of passion. A surge of desire rushed through me. My shiver made my breasts shake. Never in a million years would I have given Miriam permission to do this to me, but I couldn't deny my gratitude.
Even mundane tasks like brushing my hair and teeth were breathtaking adventures. The hair cascading past my shoulders was hypnotic. I couldn't tear my eyes from the apparition in the mirror. I might have stayed in there all day had I not heard a noise from the bedroom.
I hurriedly opened the door. Miriam's eyes were wide, as was her smile. Her gaze was pure caress. "Morning, darling. How do you feel?"
"Hungry," I said, conscious that my voice sounded awfully male. "Like I haven't eaten since day before yesterday."
Her laugh was like wind chimes. "Then we'd better get you fed. No headache? No tenderness or inflammation?"
"No, Dr. Frankenstein. Your creation feels perfectly well." I slid into bed beside her, tickled the underside of her breast with my nails.
"Umm," she purred happily. "I've created a monster." She playfully slapped my hand and rolled away. "But if we don't get you fed, you'll be too weak for me to, ah, examine you properly.
I turned coy. "And exactly what kind of examination do you have in mind?" I was slightly embarrassed by my feyness.
She went mock serious as she stood and donned her robe as she walked toward the closet. "Complex medical procedures, miss. No need to trouble you with gory details." She pitched me a peach satin robe.
Suddenly self-conscious, I hid myself in it and followed her to the kitchen.
A light breakfast appeased my hunger. The passage of time appeased my sense of living within an alien body. Human beings are remarkably adaptable. While I was unable, for even an instant, to forget my appearance, I was quickly adjusting to the way it felt.
Miriam leaned back in her chair. "Well, love . . ." Her voice trailed away, her face clouded.
"What," I interjected, worried. "Is something wrong?"
Her expression cleared. "Not a thing. I was just, ah, wondering what to call you."
A name instantly leapt to mind. I thrust it away, merely nodded like I was thinking.
She eyed me skeptically. "I saw that. What?"
I couldn't make myself look at her. "Nothing. Just mulling over the possibilities."
"Horseshit. Tell me. No secrets, remember?"
Our cardinal rule for relationship. I couldn't lie. "I, uh, just flashed on my sister."
Her nod was somber, her gaze direct. "Barbara." A heavy pause. Her tone was soothing, compassionate. "You still feel like it was your fault?"
"My head knows better, but sometimes, in my heart - yeah, I guess I do."
"Well, then, Barbara it is, love. She'll live again through you. Sounds like good therapy to me. Now," she clapped her hands, "what would you like to do today, Barbara?"
I looked up at her teasing tone. "Do?"
"Yeah. It's perfect weather for the beach. I've got an extra bikini -"
"No way! Jesus, are you nuts?"
"Yeah, but you knew that already. Are you saying you're ashamed of your bodacious bod, hon?" She leaned forward, grabbed my hands. "You've got to go outside sooner or later."
